


Ways to say "I love you"

by queenofmyheart



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: College AU, Enemies to Lovers, Jamilton - Freeform, M/M, Roommates, list promts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2019-11-19 08:30:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18133370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofmyheart/pseuds/queenofmyheart
Summary: Alex and Thomas are roommates. They hate eachother. And they start doing little things. Things that may mean a lot.Based off a tumblr post with the same title.





	1. with a small, caring gesture

Alex was pissed. He couldn't seem to focus on the blank document in front of him, no matter how hard he tried and how much he stressed the importance of this paper to himself. The soft light of the afternoon sun fell through his window and onto his desk, certainly not matching his gloomy mood.

Alex couldn't fuck this up, especially after today. He'd been in a discussion in his political science class, arguing with Jefferson, the embodiment of a pain in the ass and unfortunately his roommate, when he completely blanked, forgetting every single one of his meticulously researched talking points and stumbling his way through the rest of the discussion half-heartedly until even Professor Washington didn't see the point of it anymore and stopped the discussion.

He had a heavy feeling in his stomach thinking back through the events of the day, still ashamed that he, who prided himself on being a great speaker, managed to totally lose focus during a debate. Alex groaned as he felt a dull headache in addition to the shame that rose in his gut and leaned back from his hunched position over his desk.

Well aware that there really was no point in trying to write this paper as he has been unable to concentrate all day and the pain behind his forehead wouldn't exactly make that any easier, he pushed his laptop aside and let his head drop on his forearms that he'd crossed on his desk, closing his eyes.

He could barely get a break for a few seconds when he heard a key turn in the lock of his dorm. Another groan escaped him when he thought about facing Jefferson, who would be the smuggest bastard in the world after witnessing Alex's failure earlier and would no doubt rub it in for at least the next week.

He listened to the sound of footsteps, of shoes, dropping to the ground, of a bag being set down. What he did not hear was any snide remarks, which surprised him. What surprised him, even more, was a paper cup being set down on the desk next to him, steaming hot and emitting the scent of... peppermint?

"Just drink it." He heard the voice of Jefferson behind him, coming from the other side of the room. "And take this." He said when he returned to Alex's desk and dropped down some painkillers.

At this point Alex looked up, confused and irritated. He eyed his roommate, who was now making his way over to his bed to rummage through his bag, with suspicion.

"What tells me you're not trying to poison me?" Alex asked, groaning yet again when the volume of his own voice worsened the pain in his head.

"Hamilton, don't be dumb. You're clearly getting sick and since you're incapable of taking care of yourself, please just accept the idea of making the tiniest effort for your health. And eat this." Jefferson said, setting down a takeaway container of soup on the desk next to Alex.

"You're being weird. What's wrong and why are you not basically throwing a party because you won our debate today?" Alex asked, still not touching any of the food and medicine his roommate, better yet, his enemy had brought him.

"Gosh, Hamilton, can you stop acting like a child for once and just do the bare minimum not to die? You've looked even more like shit the last few days than usual and I'm not eager to catch whatever you're getting. Plus it's no fun to win if it's not a fair fight and you suck at debating when you're sick. Just... eat the damn soup. I'll head back out to the library." Jefferson said, his voice low, the usual volume and bite gone. He picked his bag back up and put on a jacket.

Before he left, he walked past Alex, who had now started to sip the tea but froze when he suddenly felt Jefferson's hand on his shoulder for a brief moment, before he said "And get some sleep. Please." And the door closed behind him.

Alex was confused. This was not the Jefferson he was used to. Did the other man actually care? But why?

He shook his head and swallowed the pills before getting a spoon to eat the soup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this! I am obsessed with this concept and I hope I'm doing it justice, tell me if you're liking it, I live for comments.
> 
> And hmu on twitter at blindforlove13 to talk about hamilton and much more.


	2. wrapped up in a question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm sorry if this is BAD @kikabennet said she liked my stuff so now I'M SCARED OF DISAPPOINTING PEOPLE)
> 
> and I promised someone to update this by last weekend but life happened and im permanently exhausted okay sorryyy ill try to be quicker next time

Hamilton hadn’t been doing well, and even though it seemed like he was trying to hide it, it was obvious to Thomas. Even if they barely spoke outside their classes and when they did, it was usually in the form of biting remarks and pointless arguments, simply for the fun of debating.

Thomas did enjoy the quick back and forths between them, even if the topics weren’t really significant. (Actually, Hamilton refusing to make his bed, even after he tried to convince him and clearly had the superior arguments, was a very serious matter.)  
But lately, all their talking had been limited to their class discussions and Hamilton’s obnoxious friends came by less and less.

And sure, one could put burying himself in his work and failing to take care of himself just up to Hamilton being Hamilton, but Thomas couldn’t help to see past that. 

He didn’t just see the dark circles under his eyes, that everyone was more than used to, he heard him tossing and turning at night, sighing when he got up at ridiculously early times like half past four in the morning.

And he hated it. 

More specifically, he hated that it bothered him.

He’d never gotten along with Hamilton, basically any time they were forced to work together it was a recipe for disaster, and every time someone like Professor Washington tried to make them cooperate they’d both leave frustrated with red faces and sore throats, Hamilton was vain and way too attached to his pride and ridiculous ideas, he was absolutely insufferable, obnoxious and still- 

He couldn’t help but let his thoughts spin into worry whenever he saw his usually so obnoxious roommate.

So it really wasn’t his fault when he said it. It was Hamilton being so damn distracting. Yeah, distracting sounds about right. Does it?

This whole thing went on for about a week or two when Thomas woke up, again, because Hamilton tossed and turned in his bed on the other side of the room. Being a light sleeper and sharing a room with someone who had as much disregard for when a normal person would sleep had always been annoying (and a regular point of discussion for the two) but the worry that had formed somewhere low in his stomach over the last week kept him from getting mad. (But not from getting annoyed when he turned to face his alarm clock and saw it was 4 am.)

Despite the initial annoyance of being woken up, and every rational fibre of his body that screamed “What the hell are you doing?”, he followed the impulse of that knot of worry and rolled over and got out of bed, quietly walking over to Hamilton's bed.

The shorter man had now stilled in his motions, facing away from Thomas against the wall, showing no sign of whether he was asleep or not. Thomas really just felt like ignoring that gnawing worry, turning back to go to sleep, put some earbuds in and let Hamilton deal with whatever has been troubling him by himself. 

But when he turned away, Hamilton whimpered.

Fucking whimpered.

And turns out there’s nothing like your roommate/archenemy sounding like a wounded animal to fuel that dumb impulse that grew out of constant worry.

Carefully and softly, Thomas started speaking.

“Alex?” 

Thomas cringed. Why was he doing this anyway? The only thing it did was make him feel stupid. He cleared his throat.

“Hey, Hamilton. Everything alright?” 

When he still didn’t get a response, he hesitantly reached out and lightly shook Hamilton’s shoulder. Because as much as he wasn’t keen on facing the guy right now, he was probably having a nightmare or something like that and Thomas wasn’t a monster after all.

When he shook his shoulder and said his name again, Hamilton bolted up in his bed and would likely have crashed into Thomas if he hadn’t been cautious and kept his distance. 

Now that Hamilton was awake, he was breathing heavy and shaking, his face in his hands and- was he crying?

Thomas hadn’t felt so helpless in a long time. What the hell should he do? What was expected of you when you woke up your roommate/rival from a nightmare?

“Hamilton,” he asked again, “are you okay?”

It was only then that Hamilton seemed to notice his presence. For a second Thomas got nervous. Was he going to be mad? Yell at him? It shouldn’t matter, Hamilton did both of those things on a regular basis and it never bothered him but- maybe this was different.

This was Hamilton being vulnerable, this was something he would probably rather die than have Thomas witness. 

So before Hamilton could do as much as open his mouth, he decided to flee from the situation.

“Uhm, alright. I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” 

When he turned to leave the room he swore he heard Hamilton, his voice thin and raspy, whisper a quiet “Thank you” before the door fell into its lock.


End file.
